This Wasn't Supposed to Happen
by WolfoxKit
Summary: There was certainly some outside force trying to sway Malik's luck in the wrong direction. Malik had no idea what he had done to deserve it, but all that was left was to suck it up and get on with his life. AltMal and a few other couples briefly mentioned. Rated T until later chapters are added. -AU-
1. A Demon in the Dark

**ATTENTION!  
A reviewer on here, whom I have been warned about will thorw nasty words about. Pay no mind, and just report. Do what you can, it's not like he matters anyway. We are here for expression, and he enjoys reading too much into this, because honestly, I only think two chapters ahead and he likes to believe that he knows the ending... what ending? Please, tell me how it ends and how they get there. Anyways, there is no hidden message in my work like he believes and he can sling quotes from the Qur'an at me all he wants. I will still write what I feel like writing.  
ATTENTION!**

Title;; This Wasn't Supposed to Happen  
Warning;; Boy!love, mention of some hands in pants action (but nothing graphic)  
Disclaimer;; I don't own Assassin's Creed  
Word Count;; 1223

Notes;; Just getting back into the swing of fanfic writing. This is AltMal, and though this chapter it seems like hate all the way, trust me, it gets better. Short chapter, because it's really only supposed to be like a prelude to the story, just giving you some background information.

**This Wasn't Supposed to Happen**  
_Chapter I_  
_A Demon in the Dark_

If there was one reason that Malik hated being a cripple, it was this.

A warm body covered his own, pressing him against the lockers in the athletics locker room. Why he agreed to coming in here was beyond him- maybe it was because he trusted that warm body more than he ought to and when an apology was offered, Malik believed it to be sincere.

Of course, all that was the sheerest hypocrisy as Malik found himself cornered alone in here with the bastard who's sinful lips nipped at his neck. He wanted to punch the idiot who's hand was currently down his pants and doing sinful things, but his single arm couldn't get enough leverage.

Don't get him wrong, Malik was not weak by any means. He could lift his own body with his single arm, more than the average person could lift with both arms. However, he was not strong enough to push the man on top of him who was pushing back.

"Why are you doing this?" Malik groaned as the other man laid licks and nibbles along his throat, careful not to bite too hard and leave any marks across Malik's tanned skin.

The other man hummed, his hand pausing for only the slightest of seconds before resuming its previous task, making Malik's breath hitch slighty- it did not go unnoticed by his counterpart. "Why do I always do it?" He cooed, his hot breath blowing on Malik's ear. Thankfully the man was somewhat keeping Malik supported, or that action alone would have turned him into a pool of Arab pudding on the floor. Malik did always know that his ears were sensitive, and now the man cooing, "Because you're so fun to tease, Mali," above him knew it too.

Malik turned his head away, the pink burning his cheeks. When had it gotten to this? Flirting and being friends turning into hot episodes in the locker room. It would be one thing if it was just that, but the man holding him hostage would just leave and go out and fuck whatever skank showed the most cleavage today. It made him furious on the inside- made him a sobbing mess when the other man would leave.

As if a saving grace had blessed Malik, the locker room door slowly eased open, it's creaking hinges warning his assailant of an entrance.

"I'll catch you later, _mi amore_." Came the heavily accented Italian's voice. The door closed right back up, as if the Italian was right outside, finishing up a conversation.

It gave his prisoner time to pull his hand out of Malik's pants. A smirk flashed across scarred lips as the man leaned in and took Malik in a quick searing kiss, biting harshly on his lower lip so as to make it bleed as he pulled away.

Being pulled around, Malik was shoved into one of the shower stalls with explicit instructions to stay there until the locker room was empty for at least two minutes.

"Be seeing you during practice, _water boy_." The man sneered and began to saunter out.

Before he reached the door, Malik's stubbornness surfaced and he yelled back at the man. "Fuck you too, Altair."

There was a chuckle as Altair left, leaving Malik in a crumpled, angry, and aroused heap in the back of the shower stall.

He waited only one minute before crawling out of the shower, in a sort of defiance to Altair.

It honestly hadn't been like this before. They used to be great friends, and in high school, just as everyone did, there was that fake flirting between friends a sort of "You're gay" "Only on Tuesdays" type of relationship between them. It was around that time that Altair began to explore his interest in women. He was subtle about it, wouldn't openly flirt with the girls, but every few days, another girl would hate Altair's guts or be absolutely obsessed with him- depending on if he kicked them out after bedding them, or promised he'd call.

Malik wouldn't call himself jealous of any of those girls, not in the slightest, for in those days, Altair was wrapped around Malik's finger. Altair could be in the middle of plowing the fields with a girl and if Malik called, Malik came first. Altair could be sauntering, because the man never walked, home with a girl and if Malik invited him over, well then that girl was shit out of luck.

At first, Malik took the attention for granted, assuming that all best friends were like this. After all, wasn't it 'Bros before Hoes'? But all that changed when Malik lost his arm.

They had just entered college, and after being recruited to the football team for their free running skills, they took off like stars. Everything was great, they would stay up late, play video games, talk about Altair's latest conquest, and tell each other secrets in the night.

It was the night of a game, and a feeling in Malik's stomach told him that something was going to go incredibly wrong, but he was needed. His alternate was out sick with the flu and there was no one else. So against his better judgment, he went out on the field.

Half way through the game, he got tackled, and his arm snapped like a twig. He remembers howling in pain and Altair being the one to help him to the infirmary. But that was the last display of kindness he was shown by the older boy.

They mended his broken bones, but the doctor was a quack – later to be discovered selling medication on the black-market – and bound his cast too tight. Circulation was cut off, leaving Malik's arm numb. He couldn't tell anything was wrong, until he noticed the purple color creeping up his fingers.

Rushing to the doctor did nothing for it was too late to save his arm, and in order to prevent shock to his system when the crushed, dead muscles were relieved and released toxins into his blood, they decided it was best to amputate above the cast, above his elbow.

What should have been a two month recovery turned into an amputated arm. Malik sued, won, and put the money in his brother's college fund.

He was demoted to water boy, and the next year, it seemed that everyone had forgotten about him. Altair hated him and the whole football team ignored him. He supposed that was because Altair told them all about Malik's relationship preferences.

Being gay made it hard to be accepted on the football team.

So why, you might ask, did he stay then? Two reasons.

One, he tried to quit, but Coach Al Mualim had this way about him. He wouldn't let Malik quit, but demoted him to water boy.

Two, his brother was just starting on the team this year, and Malik wanted to be there to support him.

Shaking his head, he scattered the memories and fixed himself up. He did the best he could to stop the bleeding on the outside of his lip, though it still oozed a bit on the inside. He slipped out of the locker room and began the long trek to his next class.

He would be late, but luckily, his teacher in the next class was an understanding man.

* * *

Like it? Love it? Hate it?  
Drop a comment and let me know.

How's that for your steaming pile of horseshit?  
Stick that in your pipe and smoke it!  
- **Wolfox**


	2. Your Only Salvation

Title;; This Wasn't Supposed to Happen  
Warnings;; no boy!love in this chapter, unfortunately  
Disclaimer;; Didn't do this last time, but I don't own Assassin's Creed  
Word Count;; 2176

Notes;; So I've been watching and rewatching the AC3 trailers. I have them on a playlist set for loop. I fangirled. Everywhere. Hard. I mean goddamn. Connor's voice. Running through the trees. Running across that field like a badass. AND THAT JUMPSHOT! I freaking hope we get to do that. Also. He can have all my babies. All of them. I just- My happiness. It cannot be contained by something as miniscule as reality. Doesn't help that my boyfriend loves AC and is native american so I'm like nerding out over here. He even made his own hidden blade and has a legit tomahawk. I swear, if he dressed up as Conner for halloween, that boy is getting raped so hard.  
Anywho, no lovin in this chapter, but it does give you some insight on Altair and brings my other boys into the picture. Yes, Conner will be in there eventually. But not much since we don't officially know his character yet. If I get football terminology wrong, forgive me. I'm but a measly little gamer girl obsessed with superheroes and math.  
On with the show.

**This Wasn't Supposed to Happen**  
_Chapter II_  
_Your Only Salvation_

Malik stumbled into his art class five minutes late, but was met with nothing but the happy face of his professor.

Some might think it ironic that an amputee was in an art class, but it was a great outlet for Malik's frustrations and it honed his use of his good arm. It was art that allowed him to build the muscles in his arm to start free running again. If he couldn't be active on the field, he figured he might as well be active off of it. In addition to using his arm more, it helped him in his long-term goal of becoming a map maker.

Yeah, he knows he's lame for wanting to be a map maker of all things, but ever since he was young, he had collected maps from all different places and time periods. It was just interesting to him to see how the lay of the land changed with each and every battle fought.

"Ah, Mr. Al-Sayf, please take a seat. You haven't missed much." The teacher spoke, his smooth Italian accent calming Malik's jittered nerves.

It amazed Malik how many different nationalities were at their college. And they weren't the pansy 'well my great grandfather was German, so I'm German' nationalities. These people were legitimately from other countries and for whatever reason decided to come to America.

Mr. DaVinci was from Italy, originally named Leonardo Romano, he took upon his more famous counterpart's name out of respect for the famous artist – that and Mr. DaVinci secretly had a thing for the long dead artist. But not many knew that.

"Today class, I want you to practice sketching this basket of fruit." He spoke happily as he lifted a blanket in the center of the room revealing a mountain of fruit. Everyone began to groan. "_Si, si_. The evil art professor is making you draw fruit." He drawled sarcastically. "But if you can't draw the simple differences between an apple and an orange, how will you ever know the different textures of skin by just looking? How will you know that the hands are rough, but the face is smooth? Because I'm telling you now, you will not be touching the models later in the semester."

This got everyone excited, for it was their firm belief that drawing people was reserved for the third year art students, and yet here was Mr. DaVinci telling them otherwise. After all, he believed that one did not gently dip themselves into art, but instead took a running start and cannonballed.

Malik set to work on the fruit.

* * *

Altair let the door swing shut behind him with a chuckle. Malik was just far too fun to play with for his own good. He was so lost in his own musings that he almost ran into his teammate, Ezio, whom had just finished talking to the art professor.

However, that didn't stop Ezio from turning around blinding and bumping into Altair.

"Ah, Altair, you scared me." He confessed, though it was easy to see that he said it more out of excuse than reality. He didn't want to have to tell Altair 'sorry for running into you'.

Altair waved it off, remembering Ezio's rough Italian voice calling someone 'mi amore'. "Who's Ezio's girl of the week this time?" He asked his friend, leading him down the hall and away from the locker room. He was at least nice enough to give Malik some time to escape- and Ezio was nosy, he'd be sure to pick up on subtle things.

"Some blonde, her name escapes my mind every time." He replied with a grin. "But who needs names when all I'm after is the body." His golden eyes seethed with passion as he spoke of bedding a lady.

It somewhat disturbed Altair that, including himself, about three of the football players had similar looks, similar eyes, and the same scar at the corner of their mouths. What disturbed him was that they all had a whole bunch in common, and wound up being the head honchos of the team, and then best bro-friends ever. Because guys do not have BFFs, they have BBFs. There's a difference.

He laughed loudly, clapping his partner on the back with a grin. "You do have a point there."

Ezio smiled and the two went off to class, Altair with his usual saunter and Ezio with his glide.

"So, you up for a study session tonight? I've heard that Mr. Hastings' tests are cruel." He commented, opening the door for his companion who slipped inside the history classroom without a noise. He followed suit and found their other look-a-like sitting in the back and brooding.

"Oh Desmond, you know your face could stick like that." Ezio cooed, sliding into the seat next to him. Altair took the seat next to that and waited for the class to file in.

Desmond flipped Ezio the bird, "You try being peppy when Mr. Hastings gives you extra work material and fuckin' assigned tutoring. Bullshit, I say."

As Ezio and Desmond bantered and gossiped, Altair's thoughts flew elsewhere. Mostly to Malik. Yes, they had once been best friends, doing what young boys do, and the more he continued to be by Malik's side, the happier he seemed to get. For a teen with depression, a friend who can always make you smile is somewhat of a necessity.

Even girls didn't make him as happy as Malik did. Yes, he enjoyed girls' company in bed, very much so, but outside of the bedroom, they were useless little gossip machines who did nothing but whine and expect him to dote on them. Outside of the bedroom, he and Malik were inseparable. Altair even gained the respect of Malik's little brother, who at the time was very distrusting of strangers.

But it quickly fell apart.

Going to college was supposed to be the best thing in the world. Especially when they were asked to join the football team, just because they were expertly talented at flips and tricks- oh, how he wished to go free running again, but there just wasn't enough time in the day. They were going to be comrades on the field and have each other's backs.

That just so happened to be Malik's downfall. Altair had been too busy looking at a cheerleader who happened to not wear underwear that night when he missed the pass. He could have gotten it easily, but Malik jumped in and saved his ass, the smaller man beginning to run for the touchdown when he was pulled down by his ankle.

Altair couldn't react fast enough when he saw the awkward angle at which Malik's arm was pinned under his body. The ref couldn't blow his whistle fast enough to stop the other team from joining together in an excited, frenzied pile-up on top of his teammate. Altair still hears the screams to this day in his nightmares. His biggest fear is being under a pile like Malik was.

Altair was the only one who knew the shame of what had happened. He picked through the other team, kicking some of them over when they wouldn't get up fast enough until he could see the red blood, the bone, and Malik's pale white face. Forgetting anything else in the world, he picked up his best friend and carried him to the infirmary. It was what he was supposed to do, right?

Wrong. While Malik was in the hospital, the rest of the team teased Altair for carrying Malik like a bride. They jumped to the conclusion that they were gay, and if Altair knew one thing, it was that he certainly was not a homosexual. But, he also worried what might happen to his friend, who had confessed to Altair a while back that he questioned his sexuality, that he didn't really like anyone at all. To be gay by football standards, you didn't have to like boys, you just had to not like girls.

So abandoning Malik seemed logical. Altair took the heat away from the both of them by severing that tie, and he gave Malik the chance he needed to make a better friend, someone who wouldn't put him in harm's way just to eye up some girl.

He expect Malik to return to full health and join the team, but even then he'd keep his distance from the other man. What he didn't expect was for Malik's arm to be gone. He didn't know what happened, didn't bother to ask, he didn't want to be too caring for the other male. A sick twisted part of him thought it was good for him to lose his arm, that it meant he couldn't be on the team any longer and was not at risk to be tormented.

So he was angry when he was demoted to water boy, and it pained Altair to do it to his best friend, but he began to belittle him at every turn.

Luckily, this year, Ezio and Desmond transferred in, and got into the football program. It meant that Altair had close friends to keep him happy and to keep him away from Malik. Though, he was grateful they didn't pick on his former best friend, but that didn't stop them from saying shit behind his back.

The teacher dismissed everyone, snapping Altair out of his reverie and he snatched up his bag and headed for the bathroom. He needed some cool water to clear his head.

* * *

"Mr. Al-Sayf, please stay for a minute." Malik heard Leonardo request as the rest of the class packed up their things and hauled ass out of there. Malik took his time, knowing he had nowhere else to be.

When the class emptied, Mr. DaVinci pulled a stool up next to him. "So, Malik, what seems to be the problem?"

Malik let out a sigh of relief, for it seemed that his only friend these days was Mr. DaVinci, who took to him after hearing of his interest in maps. Mr. DaVinci liked old contraptions and ancient works, so finding another person who enjoyed the ancient arts was like a blessing. He acted like a father to Malik, though they addressed each other as friends, and Malik shared things with him and other things he did not.

"Me and Altair spoke again." He lied through his teeth. He told Mr. DaVinci that Altair was an old friend who still liked to corner him and verbally assault him. What he didn't say was that Altair actually sexually assaulted him, and it seemed to be becoming more frequent as of late. "I don't know why Coach Mualim won't let me quit."

"Because he is a selfish man who does not know when to let things go. He, how does it go, beats the dead horse." Mr. DaVinci spoke, his insight somewhat enlightening, but he spoke nothing of how to deal with Altair- but that was probably because Malik gave him very little information on him. "Now, go to your next class, _mi amici_, I will see you Wednesday, no?"

"_Si_." Malik affirmed, sliding the strap of his bag over his head and onto his shoulder. "I will see you soon, Leonardo."

"And you can always come and talk to me, even if you do not have this class, Malik."

"Sure thing."

Malik went for the door right as it was pulled open by none other than one of Altair's fellow football players. Though, he supposed that if he had to meet any of them, Ezio was the one he wanted to run into most. "Hey water boy," Ezio cooed, reaching out and ruffling Malik's hair. "Getting some extra time with the teach?" He winked his eye at him, causing a flush to spread across Malik's face. "That's okay, I won't tell no one." And he moved on.

Malik sighed, Ezio was kinder to him than most others. It had something to do with his brother being an over the top fairy, and so the only time he called Malik out on being gay was with little things like this. He didn't yell 'fag' down the hall like Robert liked to do, but he didn't keep the gossip to himself either, by the end of today, most of the school would think that he was hot for teacher.

Suddenly feeling like he needed to check his ruffled up hair, he booked it for the nearest bathroom, swinging open the door and popping over to the sink. He was in so quickly that he didn't notice anyone else in the room until a broad chest was pressed against his back.

"Hey there, Mali."

_Shit_.

* * *

Like it? Love it? Hate it?  
Drop me a comment and let me know.

So yeah, I gave you a cliffhanger. But don't worry, I'm a college kid who's sad reality of taking notes is doodling Conner jumping from a cliff with his tomahawk, yelling "DEATH FROM ABOVE" and about to give it to some poor British dude. Shit happens when you start talking about the French and Indian War and how the French and Indians fought against Britains. It seemed appropriate. But the whole class thinks I'm bonkers now. But whatevs.

- **Wolfox**


	3. Knock at the Door

Title;; This Wasn't Supposed to Happen  
Warnings;; There is some boy!love in here, a little vomit, and some abuse as well  
Disclaimer;; I do not own Assassin's Creed  
Word Count;; 2505

Notes;; So I wrote this right after I posted last chapter, stayed awake in my bed for two hours typing it up on my phone (thank goodness for smartphones). I didn't intend for the beginning to be so cynical, but when I was given the opportunity to show that Malik was not the only one who was broken, I jumped on that chance. I also jumped on the chance for some affection from Altair, after all, he doesn't hate Malik. I might be revealing too much, but I don't want people to read this chapter half way through and be like 'screw this, this is too mean' cause it's not. I promise it'll get better.

**This Wasn't Supposed to Happen**  
_Chapter III_  
_Knocking at the Door_

Altair liked to think of himself as an assassin on and off the football field. When he found a target, he went for it and it wouldn't be until the last second that they would realize that he was coming for them.

It was just chance that Malik came rushing into the same bathroom right outside his history class.

He stalked up the boy like a predator creeping up on its prey. "Hey there, Mali." He cooed, pressing his chest against the smaller man's back, pushing Malik against the sink. The man's bewildered look only made this more enjoyable. "Are you that eager to finish what you started earlier, hmm? That you'd come and seek me out to help you?"

Being this close to Malik drove him insane, made him long for the other's company, just as it had been when they were little. But he couldn't have that anymore, even if he tried. He had broken Malik too much to have any hope at going back to being best friends. Even a normal friendship was beyond his reach.

He fucking deserved it, he thought with a grimace. For all the pain and grief he cause Malik, Altair deserved to be miserable and depressed most of the time.

This was the only way to be close to Malik again.

He kept doing this, hoping that somehow, being close to Malik would drive the depression away, just as it had when they were little. He hoped that even though they could never be friends again, just knowing that the smaller male was still there would help relieve whatever shame he felt for causing Malik's injuries.

In his own twisted way, these were apologies.

With a feral snarl he grabbed Malik's wrist and pulled it behind the younger man's back. The pained cry and the contortion of his face made Altair's chest hurt wildly. His other hand made short work of Malik's pants, getting them open enough so he could delve his hand inside.

"Altair, stop, please!" Malik spoke in protest, he dare not scream it, for then surely someone would find them.

Altair growled and bit Malik's neck, hard. "This is the only way."

Malik didn't understand a word he was saying, trying to prevent the tears. He wasn't crying because of what Altair was doing, but because of the pain in his arm. Ever since losing one arm, he had become extremely paranoid when he felt pain in the only one he had left. He was crying because he didn't want to hurt his only other arm, because then he'd have nothing.

He gasped as Altair's hand worked its way around his member, slowly bringing him to full attention. It was a strange concept to Malik, who had never really been sexually oriented one way or the other, that his former best friend taking advantage of him, turned him on.

"Please Altair, let my arm go." He begged. This was what this past year had resorted him to, begging a man who he would have protected with his life to let him go.

Altair shook his head locking eyes with Malik in the mirror. "You'll run."

It pained Altair to see his rosy cheeks stained with tears. It was even more painful to Malik to look into Altair's eyes and not see malice, but something distraught, as if the larger, tanned male were warring inside himself.

"I promise I won't, I just- I don't want to hurt my arm." When Altair didn't seem like he would budge, a choked sob worked its way free from his throat. "_Please_!"

At once his arm was released, and he grasped the edge of the sink, suddenly retching into its bowl. The hand down his pants removed itself, a little to Malik's twisted disappointment, and flicked on the water in the sink, washing the bile down.

Suddenly, Altair's caresses were gentle as he cupped his hands in the water and brought them up to wash cool water along Malik's forehead. The water dribbled down his face and into the collar of his shirt, but he didn't care. This moment, it felt like a reprieve from everything he endured. He dare not look in the mirror, didn't want to see whatever pleading, twisted, or other expression Altair had cooked up for him.

He closed his eyes and leaned back. The water's coolness was evaporating quickly from the warmth of his heated skin, but Altair took a lesser handful of water this time and once again, washed it against his forehead.

His erratic heartbeat and shallow breathing eventually evened out. He could almost believe that the past year had been a nightmare, a horrible, horrible nightmare.

He could have believed it until he felt rough lips along the back of his neck in between whispers. They were apologies, threats, and everything in between. For what, he did not know, but it made Malik realize something.

Altair was just as broken as he was.

* * *

Malik spent the rest of that day sobbing in Leonardo's classroom, and when the classes began to come in, he was ushered into Mr. DaVinci's office to stay.

For the first time, Malik noticed the intricate artworks and designs plastered on the walls. There were a few paintings of a man with his head turned away, but the way his body was perched in each of them was "Beautiful," he breathed.

"I'm glad you think so. I painted these myself."

Malik jumped, having not heard his mentor come in. "And the designs?" He asked quickly.

Leonardo looked them over with a hum. "_Si_. I designed these myself, though some of these were a request from a student who wished to build something extraordinary to protect himself with." He spoke, taking down a frame and handing it to Malik.

Scrawled on the paper were designs for a retractable and extendable blade to be worn around the wrist. The mechanisms inside seemed intricate, and had Malik been an engineering major, he might have understood them.

Handing it back to Leonardo, Malik smiled. "The real Leonardo DaVinci would have been proud."

Mr. DaVinci's eyes lit up considerably. "You think so?"

Malik nodded, and looked to the paintings of the man again, wondering who Leonardo could have painted with such beauty, for it seemed there was not one without the other. Both the artists work and the subject we're beautiful and without the other, it was an average, boring portrait.

"Who is that?"

Leonardo seemed surprised by the inquiry, fumbling around for the answer. "It is, uh, someone very close to me."

"Oh," Malik mumbled sheepishly. "I didn't realize that they weren't here any-"

"Oh no, no, _mi amici_. He is not dead. I just... Do not get to see him very often. He is often busy or I am. We just, try to visit when we can." Leonardo's smile was something bittersweet, making Malik's chest hurt.

Malik spent the rest of his day in there, talking to Leonardo about upcoming projects, paintings, artists, anything other than what had prompted Malik's sobbing fit and still made him tear up. Mr. DaVinci did not pry, but he let Malik know that if someone was physically harming him, Leonardo would not tolerate it.

Malik dismissed it because what Altair did was something Malik secretly wanted, just for the sake of being close to his friend once again. And somewhere in the back of his mind, he wondered just what kind of sick and twisted fuck he was.

* * *

Altair stayed in the bathroom after Malik fled, cursing himself. He broke a sink, a mirror, and kicked three stall doors down, and still he was a raging monster on the inside.

He only came out when it was time for practice, he noted that Desmond was absent (doing his mandatory tutoring with Mr. Hastings) and Ezio was doing drills. Just the thought having to do anything more today made Altair vomit- and right onto the Coach's shoes too.

He was dismissed from practice, and decided that as long as he was here and had the time, he should ask Mr. Hastings for some specifics about what would be on this killer test.

He was greeted with the sight of a flushed Desmond and a haughty looking Mr. Hastings. Desmond was gathering his things, obviously done with the tutoring, and was heading out.

"Don't forget to tell your coach that every Monday and Friday you will be doing tutoring with me." Mr. Hastings called out, his voice distinctly British.

Desmond flicked him the bird and walked away. "Fuck you too, old man." He called out.

Mr. Hastings shook his head, removing his glasses for a minute, cleaning them and setting them back upon his face. "Now then," he cleared his throat, "what can I do for you, Altair?"

* * *

Yawning tiredly, Altair flopped onto his bed, staring at the ceiling. He was thankful to have his own apartment, living with a roommate just didn't seem to suit him very well, and the single dorms were too damn expensive.

His stomach growled loudly, but his legs protested the idea of having to get up again. He felt horrible, and just wanted to crawl into his bed and stay there for the next few days. He didn't understand why exactly he did these things to Malik, didn't understand why the younger man didn't just tell him to piss off.

Were they both really so fractured?

"Bro!"

Altair scowled, he had nearly forgotten about his tagalong. Getting up, he stumbled into the kitchen to find his teammate, Robert De-Sable rummaging through his fridge. "What?" He sneered. Altair took great measures to at least have a cordial outwards appearance towards most, but sometimes Robert just got on his goddamn nerves.

Robert stood up, scowling at the fridge. "You don't have any beer, man."

He was great big hulk of a man, muscles bulging out here and there, and his head was as shiny as a cue ball. It was a wonder this monster wasn't the quarterback and Altair was. He guessed it had something to do with the fact that Robert was very often in fights and put in detention therefore, he was unable to play.

"I'm only 20. Gotta wait until someone buys me some shit." He answered, stalking off toward his bedroom, and pulling his shirt over head. House guests be damned, he was tired. "Now get the fuck out of my apartment."

He heard Robert shuffling and then the door open and slam shut.

He kicked his pants and boxers off, sleeping in the buff, and crawled between his silk sheets. A sigh rippled through the body, the cooling fabric seeming to pluck all his worries away. His mind didn't have time to dwell too long on the events of today as sleep reached in and threatened to claim him.

His eyes snapped back open and he was alert as he heard his front door open. Shit, he'd forgotten to lock it after Robert's exit. He laid expertly still and slowly reached for the knife he kept hidden under his pillow. He chuckled inwardly, who knew this would actually come in handy.

Footsteps neared Altair's door and then gently opened it.

Altair feigned sleep, hoping the robber would get close enough for Altair to grab a hold of him. He kept his eyes slit open barely, enough to catch light, and saw the dim outline of a small man. And was that? An arm missing?

His nerves tingled as the figure approached, crawling onto the foot of his bed.

"I know you're awake, Altair." The man purred and dearest gods, it was sinful.

Altair's eyes opened as the figure pretty much straddled him, leaning over so that its face was right above his own. His eyes narrowed. "What are you doing here Malik?" There was no teasing tone in his voice, no nickname, he was pissed that the man was invading his privacy. Had his simple display of…. Whatever… this morning really give Malik the idea that he wanted him around? You would think that the numerous bad experiences the two of them had would far outweigh being kind to a man who is vomiting.

Altair kept his body still and his eyebrows furrowed as the figure leaned closer. "I came to visit you, _Altair_." That purr again. That simply delicious tone in the way Malik said his name. It was perk that Malik was full blooded Syrian, so when pronouncing Altair's name, he got every syllable and every roll of the tongue just right.

Malik continued to lean closer, his lips just a hair's width away from Altair's, and he could feel the slow breath that Malik released.

"You never visit me. What the fuck do you want?"

Malik hummed, the vibration through the short amount space between them making a shiver run up Altair's spine, but he still did not move. "That should be a simple question to answer _yourself_."

Altair grimaced. "I'm not gay."

"Neither am I."

"Then why the fuck are you here?"

Their voices were whispers, carefully measured words so that Altair's lips wouldn't accidentally reach out and brush against Malik's. But that didn't matter when Malik reach up and closed the gap between them, engaging him in a kiss.

Altair groaned loudly, the breath of air he didn't know he had been holding rushing out of his lungs. Malik took that moment to slip his tongue into Altair's mouth. His hands reached up and threaded themselves within Malik's silky locks and just as it seemed that Malik was going to dominate the kiss, Altair flipped them over.

The covers stayed along his lower body, but slipped off of his chest. The noise of surprise that squeaked from Malik's perfect rosy lips drove Altair along. He grabbed the edge of the smaller man's shirt and pulled it up over Malik's head. "Fuck you," He murmured in between kisses when they would come up for breath. His hands splayed over Malik's torso, feeling the corded muscles there. "Fuck this," He reached his hand into Malik's pants, who gave a coo of delight. "I'm not gay."

Malik's small moans were like candy, sweet and either soft or hard depending on what Altair did.

"I don't do men."

Malik looked him straight in the eyes at that moment. "But you don't really do girls either. You try, but they just don't please you anymore."

Altair looked astonished, looking down at the prone form of his former friend. "How the fuck would you know that?" He snarled.

"I also know that it's your fault that I'm like _this_."

Altair's vision went red, and he reeled back, aiming a punch for Malik's face. That fucker.

* * *

Altair woke with a start, his body hot and sticky with sweat. He faced the ceiling still, just as he had when he had fallen asleep. He threw his arm over his eyes, wishing that for just one moment, Malik wouldn't be part of his thoughts. This wasn't supposed to happen.

* * *

Like it? Love it? Hate it?  
Drop a comment and let me know.

See, I told you Altair was not completely cruel. And how did you like that Assassin's reference I made, cause I was pleased with myself when I thought of it at 12 at night. Lol. Anywho, yes, Altair does not hate Malik, thus, as soon as Malik was sick in the sink, he helped the poor boy.  
Pretty happy with the designs on Leonardo's wall of the hidden blades. :D  
I was also pleased with the ending, sort of like, Malik is Altair's concience, telling him things that he already knew but didn't want to admit.  
And although I threw the tag line in the end there, it's not the end of the story, not at all. But, I had intended for the title to be woven within the story and realized I hadn't used it yet, thus, there it went.  
Please stick around for the next chapter, I might have it up tonight.

- **Wolfox**


	4. Lock Your Windows

Title;; This Wasn't Supposed to Happen  
Warnings;; Violence  
Disclaimer;; I do not own Assassin's Creed  
Word Count;; 3117

Notes;; Okay, so this is another chapter with no love. It's just kinda more breaking and shiz. And ahead of time, no, Altair does not take a two hour shower. But that segment had to go there for suspense on Malik's part. That's all I'm gonna say. Anywho, I promise for a bit of fixing and loving in the next chapter if you can just bear with me. Btw, angry Malik is hard to write in this, cause he's been so docile thus far.

**This Wasn't Supposed to Happen**  
_Chapter IV_  
_Lock Your Windows_

The next few weeks passed by with little incident for both of the boys. Altair kept his distance from Malik, hoping it would keep the dreams that visited him more often than not at bay. Malik began focusing more on his art classes, dropping out from football altogether.

Of course, Coach Mualim didn't officially approve of his resignation, but the old coot couldn't do anything about it if he never showed up to practice. Though, the coach did send Ezio after him more than a few times, but the Italian could have cared less, after all, it was none of his business what Malik did.

Instead, he spent the time 'convincing Malik to come back' talking to the amputee. Upon finding out that he took Mr. DaVinci's art classes, the two became more engaged in art styles and what applications they had. It seemed to be a sort of connection between the two of them, albeit a weird one, and Ezio did still throw the occasional jab about Malik's sexuality. He claimed it to be his method of joking, swearing that he had never actually told anyone of his words.

"I might be a gossiping bitch like the rest of the team, but I swear I have never told them a thing about you." He told Malik one day as he sat in on Malik's art class. "I only make comments when the others begin, but nothing serious at all. I just nod and agree. I have no reason to speak ill of you, what have you ever done to me?"

Malik shrugged and carried on, after all, it was just what he was used to. He had never done anything to Altair, and though the taller man's hands never went in his pants anymore, there was still some rough shoving, anger directed towards unknown forces being taken out on him. Once, he could have sworn Altair was going to tear out his jugular with his teeth.

Sparing a glance at Ezio, he wondered if Altair told his two best buddies what he did to Malik for fun.

"Ah! Mr. Auditore, I was hoping to catch you in here today!" Leonardo cheered happily, "Come, come into my office, I must discuss a few things with you!" The rest of the conversation could have not existed for all Malik cared as the two of them slipped into Italian. Leonardo's voice was smooth while Ezio's voice was rough, making it easy to tell the two tones apart.

Malik thought back to the other day when he asked about Leonardo's age. Surprisingly, he was only five or six years older than Malik was, having graduated early from high school and college. He supposed that's what it was like when you were a genius and had superior art talent.

* * *

Life wasn't so easy for Altair.

Coach Mualim was on his ass, making him do the most drills, taking his anger at Malik out on Altair, and threatening at every turn to make Robert the new quarterback. Part of Altair wanted to just hand it over and be done with it, but another part of him knew that the coach would do to him. Stick him as water boy, now that Malik was gone.

He had nearly failed Mr. Hastings' test, and had to ace the final if he wanted to pass this semester. He had joined Desmond's mandatory tutor sessions of his own will, but skipped the Friday ones to start free running again. Coach Mualim be damned- Altair hoped he got hit with a bus.

He started seeing Malik around more than usual, even when they were on the same team. He bumped into the boy more than once in the bathroom, his rage at the boy returning full force.

His depression with life had turned into perpetual anger. He hated everyone. He even had to keep his temper in check around Ezio and Desmond, lest he scare them off and lose the only people he felt remotely close to anymore.

He would slam Malik into the wall full force, and sometimes he would hit him, sometimes he would just stare at the younger boy's saddened eyes in rage. They no longer filled with fright as Altair approached, but with sadness, as if Altair was just another piece of shit that Malik had to deal with every day- he wasn't worth a goddamn one of Malik's emotions. Recently though, Malik had started to fight back some, but never held anything other than sadness in those deep charcoal eyes.

Ever since that dream, he had stopped molesting the boy, but that had only manifested in more anger and more of those dreams. The Malik in his dreams knew his darkest secrets and pulled them out. Sometimes they'd be sitting in a class together and all of his fears would be written on the board. Sometimes they'd be in Altair's bed, raw anger and passion burning them alive as Malik repeated in his ear words that drove him to insanity- _'In football, you're not gay if you like boys, you're gay if you don't like girls'_. Sometimes they'd just be sitting across the table from one another, and this one frightened him the most, and Malik would silently get up, get a knife and begin cutting Altair's arm off and he would just sit there and let it happen.

He still retained the appearance, bedding a girl here and there, and he still told himself firmly that he wasn't gay.

* * *

More time flew past as finals began, Altair's sanity slipping one foot dangerously off the edge and Malik's happiness grew at a slow and steady rate.

He made a friend in his advanced class, who like him, was also taking the second year art class. Yusuf was a funny fellow from Turkey, always with coffee in hand. Ezio visited the art class more, stating he had nothing better to do during the hour.

Ezio and Yusuf would come over to Malik's apartment frequently, often times before they had to head out to their classes. Ezio's real surprise was in learning that his fellow teammate Kadar was Malik's younger brother. He had sworn the boy was a year older than him, though that was judged more by his extreme height, towering over everyone on the team except for Robert and being on par with Altair.

Today, Yusuf chattered excitedly as they approached their second year art class about the fact that today was the day they got to sketch a real person. A real live, naked person. Yusuf always did enjoy naked things. It was only four in the afternoon, but they were taking two whole hours to do this, after all, it was kind of their final.

Walking into the classroom, they saw in the center was a stool, a blanket draped over a large object on top of it. Mr. DaVinci guarded it well, shooing students to their seats as they eagerly tried to peek under the blanket. Leonardo was having none of that.

"Shoo, little demons. You shall not get your surprise if you do not let me show it to you!" He rushed, motioning for everyone to take their seats quickly.

"Now, class, I have searched everywhere for a perfect volunteer for you to sketch, and when you are done, you should thank the model, for he will sit here for a long time, just for you." A giggle came from the blanket and Leonardo elbowed it. "Shush, model. I will let you know, that some of you may know him, but please do not let that get in the way of your artwork. He has been covered tastefully, so as not to offend the ladies." Another giggle. Another elbow. "Now, this grade is going to count as your final, so this will be the last time I truly speak to you unless you join another art class. When I remove the blanket, you will begin, and I assumed you have all arranged for your two hours to be free so that you will have the full time, _si_?" The class responded 'si' back, making Leonardo smile at their use of his language. He was growing on them. With a flick, he lifted the blanket. "Begin."

* * *

Coach Mualim was currently having a fit, screaming and yelling at Altair to run faster, be smoother, watch his step- everything the half-Syrian did was wrong and it was beginning to wear on Altair.

"Maybe! I should just put De-Sable on quarterback! Does that good to you Ibn La'Ahad?" The coach yelled, breaking more of a sweat than the football team was. He was taking his anger out on Altair for multiple reasons; he never lost a player and yet Malik had quit, and now Ezio was missing in action.

It was all Altair could do not to break his fist in the man's face. That would mean the end of his football career and he kinda liked the sport. Kinda.

"Hey!" Coach Mualim screamed so loud that Altair thought he might bust a blood vessel. "Did you not hear me, fucking pansy!? Get your ass in gear! Toss that ball like you mean it!"

The last straw of sanity broke within Altair's mind and he tossed the ball like he meant it all right, straight into the coach's face. "I fucking quit." He grumbled, stalking off the field and leaving a trail of football gear in his wake. It wasn't his shit, officially, they could take it back. He was done. He was not there to be some sort of pack mule for the coach's anger.

A piece in the back of his mind realized that was what he was doing to Malik, but the rest of his mind squashed that thought in favor of taking a nice long shower.

He was tired. Tired of being a monster just because that's what the rest of the team expected him to be. Ezio and Desmond be damned, he couldn't keep his sanity intact if he was constantly being assaulted with tests from all sides of it. He needed to do something stable, something that would only help him instead of test his patience.

* * *

Malik's brain skidded to a halt as the model was revealed.

Sun kissed skin, flawed with scars, was bare in front of them. A nice piece of maroon fabric covered what would otherwise be a very impressive package between two solid legs. Long brown hair, usually held back, flowed gently over broad shoulders. The model sat with one leg dangling toward the floor, and the other perched on a rung. One arm, on the same side of his perched foot, stretched out and rested on a scuffed up kneecap, while the other gripped the edge of the stool ever so slightly, but tight enough to keep him upright.

Sitting before them was none other than their dear friend, Ezio. Those golden eyes so familiar to him stared at the wall, his body posing like a sculpture.

He had never seen many scars on Ezio aside from the one on the corner of his mouth, and a couple on his forearms. Even though his expanse of skin was not perfect in anyway, it was still enchanting.

Hey, anyone, straight or gay would fall for Ezio, he just kind of had that charm.

Finally focusing, he began to sketch as much as he could without thinking of how this was his friend sitting naked in front of him. He glanced to the side and wondered if Yusuf's coffee would be considered cheating.

When the time was up, nobody had a perfect sketch. But that hadn't really been the point of the assessment. The point had been to show Leonardo exactly how far they had gotten and what techniques they had learned in the class. Malik had sketched the basics and had added details to the fabric and Ezio's face.

Leonardo came to look at his work after everyone else had left and gave a sort of confused frown. "Whose eyes are these?" He questioned.

Malik looked at the picture. "Ezio's?"

"No, no, see Ezio's eyes are more soft. These are…. A predator's eyes and a predator, Ezio is not." Leonardo explained, ignoring Ezio's indignant protest. "You are a kitten, Ezio. Malik has drawn the eyes of a _lion_ here."

Malik sighed, but left the classroom anyways. It wasn't like he could just say 'let me redraw it', it was a test. One that he had obviously failed.

He tucked his hand into his pocket and headed for his apartment. His body was sunken as he thought that he had just screwed up the one thing that he desperately needed to keep himself afloat in his life. He didn't have much of anything else anymore. Ezio and Yusuf were nice, but at the end of the day, he didn't quite connect with Yusuf and Ezio was still part of the team that had shunned him. He needed something stable to keep him out of the depression that threatened to consume him.

"ALRIGHT FUCKERS! WHO TOOK MY CLOTHES!?"

Picking his head up, he was met with the enraged form of Altair, body soaked and only a towel around his waist. Those golden eyes whipped around and found him without falter and Altair's tall body began to stalk forward.

It was in this moment that Malik realized whose eyes he had drawn and he turned and darted.

"AL-SAYF!"

The bellow caused Malik to push himself faster through the hall, trying to get away from the anger that he knew would be taken out on him. It had happened so often that Malik now had a second sense and could avoid the man with precision now. He took a turn and found a staircase, leaping whole heartedly to the landing and then over the side to the middle of the next stairs. His body thanked him for not dropping his free running as he pushed himself further along.

Meanwhile, Altair's feet had initially given out from under him, slippery from his shower, but after a step or two, the water droplets had shaken off and he was off like a bullet after Malik. He needed to chase him down. He needed to tell him he was sorry about his arm, because if anything, that was what haunted him the most.

"AL-SAYF! GET YOUR ASS BACK HERE!"

The halls were unsurprisingly empty, as most people were back in their dorm, apartment, or house studying for whatever final they had coming up. No one really wanted to stick around any longer than they had to. He too, leaped magnificently down the stairs, but his body was not as kind to him as Malik's, and strained under a few weaker muscles that were not used to moving in such a fashion.

But he pressed on and came to a long hallway. He could hear footsteps that slowed and stopped, causing a smirk to spread across Altair's face. "I know you're down here, Al-Sayf." He cooed.

Stealth was on his side as he traversed the few halls down here. There had been no doors opening or closing, so he hadn't made it to the exit. He peeked softly around corners, hiding himself in the shadows. However, Malik did not have that type of foresight and his shadow stood out against the tile floor, giving away his location to the silent Altair.

Malik glanced over his shoulder and saw Altair approaching and made a run for it again, only to be tackled down and pinned to the ground.

"Let me go, Altair!" Malik protested, gaining some leverage using his leg and flipped Altair over him. Scrambling to get up, he only fell down back on his face as his assailant grabbed his ankle. "Fuck!" He screamed.

Altair had rolled over and pulled the full blooded Syrian toward him, sitting on the amputee's chest with triumph. "You gonna listen to me, Al-Sayf?"

Malik spit onto Altair and rolled him off his body, starting to crawl away before being dragged back once again on his stomach.

"That was rude." Altair whispered in Malik's ear harshly, leaning down and pinning to boy's shoulders.

"Fuck you." Malik hissed, throwing his head backwards into Altair's face. He turned around to scoot himself away this time, ready to kick Altair's hand if he saw his ankle being reached for.

A few drops of blood dripped from Altair's nose and lip, giving the already angered man a sinister look. "All I want is to talk, Al-Sayf."

Malik narrowed his eyes, his own anger starting to boil. Usually he could deal with Altair, but not when it was his damn fault for him possibly failing his final. His damn fault for being in his head all the time, around every corner and in every bathroom. His damn fault for sexually harassing or beating the shit out of Malik, depending on what he felt like that day. "Yeah right, I think we've done enough talking."

It didn't stop Altair as he stood up, striding over to Malik and lifting the shorter man by the collar. The anger in his golden eyes was no longer there, replaced with curiosity, like that of a child tinkering with a complicated machine.

"Well, spit it out." Malik said harshly, his voice like steel. "Or are you going to have your way with me? Or maybe beat the crap out of me- seems to be your favorite these days." Altair only continued to stare, fueling fire to Malik's mounting rage. "Just answer me this, _Ibn La'Ahad_, what the fuck did I ever do to you? Did I take the attention of a girl you wanted? Did I ruin your reputation because I don't like women? Tell me what I did to deserve the shit you have been putting me through."

Altair's eyes never wavered, blinking steadily as he listened to Malik's words. His mind had cleared itself of any and all thoughts as Malik's hate warred on. Verbal abuse spewing from the Syrian, his fist trying to punch a hole in Altair's side, but all of it meant nothing as he let his body act without thinking for the first time since he pulled Malik from the pile-up.

* * *

Like it? Love it? Hate it?  
Drop a comment and let me know.

Yes, another cliffhanger. Shocking, I know. But hey, I promise you a good time next chapter. As for the time skip, Altair's little quitting of the football team actually happens about fifteen minuted before emerging into the hall, pissed as all hell and in a towel. Yes, I do know he has been scrambling around with Malik in a towel, and I'm well aware of physics, however, my boys here are more preoccupied with their anger issues and depression. That goes without saying, one of them may notice next chapter. Maybe.  
Btw, Connor, might not happen until way later. That's just cause, I made Yusuf his friend due to the fact that he seems more relaxed and the kind of person Malik would befriend.  
Anywho, I'm hoping the worst of the manly rage is overwith, thought from time to time it may shine through a bit, but nothing like this. I don't plan to have them beat the crap out of each other ever again. I mean, I almost went overboard and had Malik smash his foot into Altair's face instead of yelling at him. But then Altair would have passed out and you'd have no story. So, I pulled him back in.  
Much love and a new chapter soon.

- **Wolfox**


	5. Like Ashes into Flames

Title;; This Wasn't Supposed to Happen  
Warnings;; boy!love, lots of it, and a bit of emotional hurt in there as well, but not as much as other chapters. Oh! And Language.  
Disclaimer;; I do not own Assassin's Creed.  
Word Count;; 2691

Notes;; Come on guys, I'm not pandering for reviews so I can wave the number around! I actually take things into consideration. Back in chapter 2, I got a review from **kala-fiorek** and it caused me to try and explain Altair just a bit more. Her review made me realize that in the first two chapters, his motives and vague, and I tried to rectify that (whether I succeeded or not, well, I'll leave that up to you guys to tell me).  
In other news. You get some man on man action going on in this chapter, however, no one is falling into bed just yet. I'm sorry, but in real life, people don't just go from hating someone to sleeping with someone... unless its some serious hate sex. But USUALLY it doesn't happen. Therefore, no smex for you. Yet. Plus. I'm still easing myself into writing fics again and I am a college student, so studies come first and I keep having to look over my shoulder, so that's no fun.

**This Wasn't Supposed to Happen**  
_Chapter V_  
_Like Ashes into Flames_

Malik felt all the rage and hurt seep out of him, as if Altair leeched it from his very body. Despite their looks, Altair's lips were rough, but he certainly knew what he was doing with them. Soft, probing hands clumsily found their way around Malik, lifting him from beneath his backside. With a gasp of surprise, he felt his mouth invaded.

It wasn't all soft touches, as if neither of them were mad as he'll with the other, but harming, it was not. Fire, passion, and hurt caused Malik to twist his hand into Altair's hair and pull hard. The larger man groaned, and whether through pain or pleasure, Malik didn't care to tell.

Trying to move, Altair found himself getting his feet caught in a towel, sending the two of them sprawling to the ground. He wasted no time in climbing over his counterpart, locking their lips together once again. His knee wedged itself between Malik's legs, feeling the bulge there. He pushed forward, applying pressure ever so slightly and gently moving his leg against Malik's covered erection.

"Fuck, Altair," he breathed in between kisses.

There was something different to this round of abuse. His body used to react because it was a body and that's what bodies tended to do when they were touched, but he was reacting to Altair's touches this time around. He could feel Altair's broad hands, slipping up the hem of his shirt, spreading themselves against his chest. Each time Altair shifted above him to feel more of his skin, he could practically feel the rippling muscles underneath.

At the same time, Altair couldn't get enough of touching Malik. His hands felt all the new muscles that hadn't been there months before. He let his fingers dip and glide in and out of the crevices formed on Malik's body, but never did they dip below the smaller man's waist.

No, this was too perfect, and he couldn't risk throwing it all away with such a simple thing. But it wasn't simple, was it? That action, that move was everything Altair had been doing to Malik in the past year. It was all his confusion and anger and each time, it put Malik in a panic.

Malik was enjoying this, all of Altair's muscles surrounding him, but a part of him was screaming danger, just waiting for it all to go incredibly wrong. He was waiting for Altair to snap out of this and have all his anger come rushing back and hit Malik, blame him for- for… for whatever was happening in this moment.

This only caused Malik to clutch Altair closer to him, turning their slow kiss into a steady storm. Their teeth clicked awkwardly once or twice before they figured out how to fit together.

The pressure building in Malik's pants was egged on further as he ground against Altair's leg. He wasn't aware of the soft, almost silent moans slipping from his lips. He was no whore, he didn't scream to high heaven at the littlest amount of pressure or beg for anything more from Altair. Briefly, in the corner of his eye, he saw Altair's towel on the ground and registered that meant that the man above him was butt-naked, but it mattered to him little.

It almost felt as though it were only yesterday that Altair was ready to beat him to a pulp. In fact, he thought with sudden realization, that it was yesterday. Pushing Altair off of him gently enough to separate them, Malik slid back until he leaned against the wall, staring at Altair.

Altair frowned angrily and grabbed his towel. "What?" He sneered, and didn't miss Malik's flinch.

"Why now?"

The small voice that fell from Malik's abused lips brought thought back to Altair, but he squashed it quickly, crawling over to Malik and smashing their lips together again.

Malik pushed him off, using force this time and keeping his arm between him and Altair. "Why?"

Altair seemed to mull this over, his expression cycling through uncertainty, anger, and nothingness until he settled with a blank look and stared Malik down until the smaller man thought he might combust from the heated stare. "Because…"

Silence. It suffocated the both of them. There was a reason, Malik thought with some form of happiness. There was a reason that Altair did this to him besides just for shits and giggles. Life wasn't out to make him miserable; there was something else that had caused his grief this past year.

But to Altair, the silence wasn't happiness at all. It was terrifying, he was about to admit to Malik who had really caused his injury. He was about to admit to his greatest shame and sin. He wondered, would it help anything inside him? Would his terrible rage, hurt, and depression stopped if he just told someone what was eating him up inside?

"Because it's my fault." Altair looked off to the side, unwilling to look at Malik. "It's my fault that you lost your arm."

When no sound came from Malik, Altair looked at him, and didn't have nearly enough time to register the blinding, white hot rage on Malik's face before he felt a crack across his face.

Malik's open hand grabbed Altair's hair, and this time not in an erotic way, but in a tormenting way. "Fucker." Malik hissed, his mind seething with anger. "What right do you have to think so highly of yourself? Are you that narcissistic Altair? Do you really believe that you are what shaped my life!?" He shoved Altair to the side, standing up and pinning him down under his foot. Not that it made a difference since Altair made no move to get up anyways. "I took the fall, for you!"

Altair's shock was blatant, making Malik's anger worsen. The bastard really had no clue about anything other than himself, did he? He had to make himself a martyr!

"I am well aware, Ibn La'Ahad, that you were busy chasing some skirt. I was your goddamned best friend, and I let you have your fun. It was no different than any other game when Maria would just happen to 'forget' her underwear. I always fucking picked up your slack, but I thought nothing of it cause I knew you would do the same for me.

"That you would even consider yourself at fault for my arm appalls me. You have no right to be my martyr, my saving grace. After you took me to the infirmary, I never heard from you again until you started harassing me and making my life hell.

"You didn't speak a word to me during that time, you don't know why I really lost my arm, do you? I thought I would play again, the doctor told me that in two months I would have nearly full use of my arm again. So imagine how I felt Altair," He snapped, "No arm, and I come back to find that you hate me, or whatever you feel. All I know is that you torment me, and at first it didn't fucking matter because at least it was attention from you, but now you hit me. You throw me around like a puppet. _I don't fucking deserve that_."

He gave a kick to Altair's side as he turned to walk away. "Stay the fuck out of my life, _Ibn La'Ahad_." He spat.

As Malik left Altair just lay there, staring at the lights in the ceiling, and for the first time in a very long time, he cried. Tears slipped down the corners of his eyes and his chest heaved as though he wanted to sob, but he refused to make a noise.

How could he have been so stupid? How could he have thought that Malik would forgive him for anything if he told him? And what was worse, it was never really his fault, Malik claimed. He had hidden everything, chased away a best friend, all for the sake of a lie. He hadn't even spared Malik the ridicule of his sexuality, that had never stopped even when Altair separated himself from him. He had put Malik through pain, and all the images of Malik's fear filled eyes as he found himself trapped with Altair flooded to the surface of his mind. He was a monster, a true monster.

This wasn't supposed to happen.

* * *

Malik turned down the hall to Leonardo's classroom. He needed to talk to him right now, the bubbling hurt in his chest needed to be spilled out and if there was one person he could tell everything to, it was Leonardo. The Italian may get a bit upset that Malik had lied to him for so long, but hopefully he would understand.

The lights in the classroom had been shut off, and the blinds to Mr. DaVinci's office were drawn closed, and tilted at an upward angle, but the angle was not harsh enough to block complete view or light. The shadows inside gave way to a figure sitting on the desk.

Not wanting to interrupt, he sat outside in the dark, hoping that whatever was going on in there would end soon. He felt like bursting and just crying, but he needed to speak to Leonardo.

The Italian language caught his attention, two different tones being spoken softly to one another. They slipped easily into English and the curiosity drew Malik to peek through the blinds.

What met his eyes was shocking. Perched upon the desk was Ezio, just as naked as he had been earlier. Thankfully, the cloth from earlier covered his crotch so that Malik was not too scarred. He had his feet upon a chair in which Leonardo was sitting, on either side of the art teacher's thighs. Leonardo rested his elbows on Ezio's knees, his hands folded together and his chin resting on his hands. They held each other's eyes as they spoke to each other.

At first look, Malik would have thought that the older Leonardo was taking advantage of Ezio, but he listened closely, almost ashamed for eavesdropping.

"Ah, Ezio, what a tough day it has been for me." Leonardo softly spoke.

"I'll bet, _mi amore_. It was hard not to notice your stare." Ezio teased, running a hand through Leonardo's hair.

Leonardo hummed and let Ezio's hands run through his locks. "I would have sketched you myself, but that would have been most hard to explain if the dean found it in my office."

"You already have plenty of paintings of me, Leonardo. Why do you insist on more when you have the real thing right in front of you?"

"I do not see you often, Ezio, you forget. My paintings are all I have of you sometimes."

Ezio smiled sweetly at the man, leaning down and kissing his forehead. "You shall see me plenty starting soon, I promise you." He pulled Leonardo closer, engaging the man in a simple kiss and Malik had to turn away. He wasn't meant to view something so private.

He bolted from the room, dashed down the hallways and headed for his apartment. As he left the building, he couldn't help but glance into the hallway where him and Altair had just engaged in very much the same activity as Leonardo and Ezio. Altair was still there, but Malik did not wish to see him, and thought nothing of him as he headed back home.

* * *

Winter break passed slowly for both Malik and Altair.

For Malik, he was lonely. Yusuf had gone off to Turkey to visit his family, and Ezio was never available (though Malik could now guess why). It left him alone with Kadar, who had practice every day. It was Kadar who had informed him that Altair had quit the team, naming the day as the very day that Malik finally became angry with him. Though Malik was angry at the half-Syrian man, a part of him wanted to talk to him. To question why he did everything he did because he knew that his arm was just the tip of the iceberg.

Altair, on the other hand, only had Desmond with him who was gone half the time for practice. Ezio was never around anymore, and Altair had nothing to fill his time with. He thought about more things than he'd like to admit and the nightmares still plagued him, even worse ones added to his repertoire of night terrors. There were no girls anymore and he hardly ate anything, sick to his stomach from the nightmares and from the thoughts of exactly what he had done to Malik. He was sick as he reflected on what his reasoning had been through it all, seeing exactly why Malik had been terrified and angry with him. It seemed he had nothing anymore.

Malik stood outside the café beside his apartment complex, waiting for his company to arrive. He was bundled in a sweater with a scarf around his neck, as it was starting to get colder now that they were moving toward the end of December. He looked more built, having the time to work his muscles out more and free run. He was finally getting back to his old self, though he knew that would never be quite possible with everything that had happened in the past two and a half years.

He huffed, looking at the large clock down the street and grumbled to himself. Of course Altair was late.

_He had been laying in bed, just staring at the ceiling and thinking of absolutely nothing in peace when his phone rang. It was from an unknown caller, but he answered it anyways._

_"Hello?"_

_The voice froze Malik to the core, "Hey. Um, Malik, it's-"_

_"I know. How did you get this number, Altair?" He spat, intending to wound the boy with words._

_"I, uh… I never got rid of it." He had never heard Altair sound so unsure of himself, and it made that little voice that wanted to talk to him grow louder in his head. "Listen, I know that everything isn't okay, and I'm one of the last people you want to talk to-"_

_"The last person." Malik corrected. Anyone else, he'd been civil to, but his fingers twitched to hang up the phone with Altair._

_"Right. Well, I'd like to talk. I've…. I just-" A sigh; Malik loved that he was having trouble with this. "I really would like to talk with you. You can leave whenever and I won't contact you again, but I just feel, I feel that it isn't right if you don't know everything. If you still hate me, then fine, but at least you'll know what you hate me for."_

_"Oh, I already know-"_

_"No, Malik, you don't." Silence. "Please?"_

_"Fine, I'll meet you at…"_

He shook his head, clearing his thoughts. He promised himself that he'd listen with an open mind to Altair. He wouldn't judge until he'd heard the whole thing, no matter how much he wanted to punch the man in the face.

He almost didn't recognize Altair as he walked up to him, "Hey," Altair mumbled. "You look well."

"You too," Malik lied out his ass. Altair looked like absolute shit. He looked frailer than he had been just a month ago. He had large black bags under his eyes, and his hair was super shaggy instead of in its usual neat trim. Malik wanted to slap himself for noticing things like that. "Come on," he said as he turned around and began walking. He didn't bother to look to see if Altair was following; it wasn't Malik who wanted to meet.

* * *

Like it? Love it? Hate it?  
Drop me a comment and let me know.

Yeah, I threw you guys a bone for getting this far. Everything has been planned, such as Ezio being a model- it was not just to fuck with Malik, it was cause him and Leo have got a thing and Leo knew he could ask him to do it. And, seeing them together will also be relevant for Malik's future. And that's all the spoilers you get.

Anywho, things have calmed down, as you can see. No more beating up Malik in the bathrooms and raping him. But, now it's Altair who's not fairing too well. I had to cut it off there otherwise you'd have one freaking long ass chapter.

And I repeat- EVERYTHING IS RELEVANT. Well... mostly. Yusuf's not that relevant. Sorry Yusuf.

Already working on next chapter  
- **Wolfox**


	6. Let Loose Your Lies

Title;; This Wasn't Supposed to Happen  
Warning;; None... well... lots of talking and a saucy little dream  
Disclaimer;; I do not own Assassin's Creed  
Word Count;; 2046

Notes;; Sorry for the uber long absence, but I'm back for now and desperate to write more of this little fic here. I forgot how absolutely in love with this story I am. On a side note, finally beat AC3, kind of disappointed, not a lot was answered in Connor's story line or Desmond's. For now, the Ezio trilogy is my absolute favorite. And then there's AC4. FREAKING PIRATES! I'm so excited and I hope that it lives up to the Assassin's Creed standard :D Anywho, here's the chapter some of you have been waiting for. And from what I can tell, this story hasn't really lost popularity since I've been gone, so let's bring it back! :)

**This Wasn't Supposed to Happen**  
_Chapter IV_  
_Let Loose Your Lies_

At first, Altair was hesitant to follow, taking a few steps behind Malik, but then he kicked his butt into gear. If he was going to do this, he couldn't be a wimp about it. He had to man up and face the cold truth about what he had done to his once dear friend. It was high time he faced the ultimate consequences of what he had done.

He picked up his stride so that he was walking beside Malik, his hands jammed into the pockets of his light, white hoodie. Where did he start? Where would anyone start if they had done the things that he had done? "I'm sorry." The words seemed to tumble from his lips before he could even register them.

Malik looked at him from the corner of his eyes, but stayed silent until they reached their destination, set before them, blanketed in a thin layer of snow that came with the holiday season, was a large park area. The park wasn't far from the apartments, nor was it far from the campus. It was a small community college with three large buildings filled to the brim with classrooms and a dorm building, though most students preferred to live off campus in their own apartments due to the fact that the dorms were old as dirt.

Malik took as seat on one of the many benches that lined the trail and looked expectantly at Altair, telling him he had permission to sit.

The older man took the seat, but scooted away from Malik more than necessary. He kept his eyes trained on his feet and the worn out converse that covered them. It might be snowing, but Altair was never cold, it seemed.

"What did you want to talk to me about?" Malik finally asked after minutes of silence. It seemed to Altair, that he had all but disregarded his apology from earlier, but couldn't blame him. A simple apology wouldn't just fix things like magic.

"I don't know really," He mumbled, "Well, I do. But, I don't know…. How?" He hated feeling like this, like he didn't know the exact syllables coming from his mouth. He was having trouble taking his jumbled up thoughts and spewing them out properly and it was just so uncharacteristically him that he wasn't exactly sure what to think of himself. "I guess… If you have questions, I have answers."

Malik resisted the urge to get up and just walk away from this man forever. He wanted to turn his back on Altair, just as the older man had done to him. But he knew, inexplicably, that he wouldn't ever be able to sever himself completely from Altair. This was the man who had been his best friend for a number of years. This was the man who had been his tormentor for the past year or so. Even if he never spoke to the man, he couldn't just forget that the other existed. There would always be that voice in the back of his mind that questioned why everything had happened the way it did. He knew it would drive him insane in the end.

Altair shifted and made to get up. "Sorry to bother you, Mali." He said, pulling up his hood and making to walk off.

That is, until he felt a pressure on his worn out jeans. Looking behind him, he managed to see Malik's fingers hooked into one of his back pockets.

The surprise on his face must have been very obvious, for shame and embarrassment soon made an appearance on Malik's face- turning bright red as he averted his eyes to the ground. "Sit," The words sounded so soft that Altair was almost afraid that he hadn't heard him right, but sat anyways, this time facing toward his… friend? Accquaintance? He wasn't sure.

He looked up to Malik, only to find that is was now Malik who stared at the ground, unsure of himself. How ironic could their lives be? They always did the opposite of each other- when Malik was happy, Altair was worse for wear. When Malik was being tormented, Altair was pleased. When Malik was bold, Altair was shy and when he was shy, Altair was forward.

"Tell me why."

Altair sighed, returning to looking at his shoes, cursing his mind for even thinking whimsy thoughts about himself and Malik. The only way they were connected was through pain and misery. "I already told you. It was my faul-"

"No," Malik snapped, and suddenly there was a fire burning in his eyes, those coal black eyes glinting with just a hint of blue, but only enough to make his wrath frightening. "Why did you keep doing it? Why did you think it was even remotely okay? I mean, you can't just do that to someone. To me, and without reason?"

Altair shuffled, trying to curl in on himself, trying to forget the nightmares that still played in his mind, trying to not let this turn into one of them. "I was… I needed you. Believe it or not, I knew it was wrong after the first few times. But I- I needed to be close to you." The truth, out in the air. Altair's chest felt a tad lighter, but he knew it was still being crushed with just the knowledge and the memory of what he had done. Malik's silence at his words continued to pull more words from his throat. "I was depressed before I became friends with you, but it didn't seem to bother me as much when we were together. After the incident, after separating from you, it hit me worse than before. Sadly, I only realized this after I had already started with you, and I knew we couldn't be friends again. I knew you would never forgive me- hell, I still can't forgive myself. So I kept doing what I was doing, I figured that some contact with you was better than none at all."

"Why did you stop talking to me in the first place!?" Malik's words were shaky, his body tense as he tried to understand what Altair's reasoning was, but it was all wrong. He wasn't supposed to be the confused one- he was supposed to be monster and Malik was supposed to be confused. But now it seemed, that they had both been lost for a long time now and unfortunately, they had found each other but in a destructive way that threatened to ruin them, even still. "What did I do to you to deserve that?"

Altair laughed, a sad, droning laugh that seemed to sap the life from him and as he looked Malik in the eyes, Malik realized that those golden orbs no longer belonged to a lion, but to a scared man. "Do you know what they said to me when I came back from the infirmary, to tell them that I had gotten you to safety?"

Malik shook his head, his eyes focused on Altair.

"They said 'Did you have fun carrying your bride over the threshold?'" Altair pushed his hair back, looking away from Malik. "They called me gay. They called you gay. Together, we were gay. So I had to protect you, after what I had done to you, or…. Rather… the situation I put you in out there, and I did. If we weren't friends anymore, if we no longer had contact, we weren't gay together. I had to do that for you."

"You ass."

Altair looked bewildered, and back at Malik who was seething, his brows knitted together, his fists balled in his lap. "Excuse me?"

"You didn't protect me, you tortured me! All you did was save your own ass and I had to suffer for it!" He yelled, no longer caring who heard them. There was no one around anyways.

"I saved you-"

"If I wanted saving I would have asked for it, Ibn La'Ahad." He spat, getting up and walking off quickly.

His strides were so fast that Altair had to run to catch up with him, falling in step behind him, a bit winded. "Malik, please, listen-"

Malik rounded, slamming his fist into Altair's face and knocking him to his knees in surprise. "You are disgusting. First you molest me, then you beat me, and I had to suffer through all of this so that your pride could be intact? I could have defended myself, and you could have fucked more girls- problem solved. But you didn't have to-" A choke, "You didn't have to ruin me."

"I didn't mean to-"

"Why did you stop messing with me, just to beat me?" Altair flinched. "You know, after that day you-" Malik flushed, remembering how right it felt to lean into Altair's chest and have the taller man wash cool water over his face, how much he enjoyed the sweet and terrible nothings kissed onto his back.

"I know the day." Altair said curtly, avoiding his eyes and standing up, looking more broken than Malik had ever seen him. "And I… I tried to stop. I wanted to stop hurting you the way that I was, but it just made me so angry that I couldn't have you with me anymore. It hurt like hell and I guess in some twisted way… I wanted to hurt you too."

Malik swallowed looking to the ground again. He seemed to be doing that a lot, looking up and a looking down, as if he couldn't decide if he even wanted to look at Altair. "And the hallway?" As soon as the words left his mouth, he wanted to take them back. He wanted to pull out a gun and shoot them down as Altair closed up and glared stiffly at him.

"I'm not gay." He hissed.

Malik frowned. "Neither am I."

This only seemed to make Altair stiffen more and he started stalking away. "Whatever."

* * *

Altair lay on his bed, letting his dream take over him. He didn't even resist anymore and instead let dream-Malik have his dirty way with him. They never had sex in his dream, but got pretty darn close to it. They ground together, rutting each other until Altair would wake up breathless and with a raging erection. He wasn't gay for god's sake. He even tried thinking of other men, but he was never aroused by them or any girl for that matter.

"What's on your mind, lover?" dream-Malik asked in a sing-song voice, a twisted grin upon his face. He lay naked on top of Altair, their bodies fitting perfectly together. "Thinking of me?"

"Fuck off, Al-Sayf."

Dream-Malik pouted. "We never fuck, Ibn La'Ahad," He cooed. "But what I wouldn't give to have you bang my brains out." And there was that sick and twisted little smile again. "Admit it, you wanted to grab me earlier, take me in the park. Oh! And against one of those trees, ah! Those scratches would have been so delicious!" He practically yelled, his body stiffening as he thought of it, and Altair could feel _every_ part stiffen. "I would have protested, would have been so cold." He continued, "_Ibn La'Ahad_, I'm so cold!" His purring voice again, throwing Altair's mind into turmoil. "Warm me up, _Ibn La'Ahad_."

Altair shoved him off, turning his back to him and ignoring the indignant cry. He was just a dream anyways. "Why the fuck are you still here? I told you the truth, I told you everything."

"You did, but have you told the truth to yourself?"

"What?"

Malik purred again and crawled back up on the bed, draping himself over Altair's side. "Why do you think I'm still here, Ibn La'Ahad? Why do think I'm always naked here? And why do you think that no matter how much clothing you go to sleep with, you're always naked too? You're not answering yourself, Ibn La'Ahad, and I'm here to help."

Altair laughed mockingly. "Here to help by yelling out your rape fantasies?"

"Ah ah! Not mine, yours. I am, after all, just part of your dreams, I am nothing like the real Malik. Only so much better." He spoke, his hand gliding down Altair's outer thigh.

"Damn right, the real Malik is not a whore."

* * *

Like it? Love it? Hate it?  
Drop me a comment and let me know.

Sorry for all the talking, but it had to be done and I figured that the band-aid method was best. All at once instead of over time. Also, for those of you who were worried that Altair was being let off the hook a little too easy, dream-Malik won't let that happen ;) Also, dream-Malik plays into the story very nicely and makes a lovely plot point later on.

Till next chapter, which I hope to have up sooner than this one got put up,  
- **Wolfox**


	7. A Wall Between

Title;; This Wasn't Supposed to Happen  
Warning;; boy!love, and more talking  
Disclaimer;; I do not own Assassin's Creed  
Word Count;; 2401

Notes;; Now, I got a pretty nasty review from the last chapter, but it wasn't about the chapter itself, just the story. I'd like you all to know, if you write too and he comments on your stuff, ignore him. I didn't, I regret it, but he's an asshole who is only looking for trouble. Do the right thing, report him. Anyways, without giving a flying fuck about what he says (and I had it typed up before he could even review the last chapter), I present to you the next chapter.

**This Wasn't Supposed to Happen  
**_Chapter VII  
A Wall Between_

The new semester was now among them and had approached without any further interaction between Malik and Altair.

Altair no longer found himself occupied by the football team and had dedicated himself to taking up architecture. He had almost forgotten how much he enjoyed the subject before his life became solely focused on the team- a team he didn't even like. Robert was pissed at him, but happy all the same, for now he was the quarterback, but as it seemed Al Mualim liked to rub in his face, he wasn't near as good as Altair had been. It just so turned out that he was now having to watch his back, much the same way he had made Malik watch his, except without the molestation. He hadn't declined in health, but he hadn't gotten much better. The Malik in his dreams still teased him and toyed with him, and their encounters had grown more and more violent over the past week or so.

Malik got further involved with his art classes, taking a few which he also took with Ezio. He had yet to question the boy about his relationship with the teacher, after all, it was none of his business and he didn't really want Ezio poking around his business. He had been happier, getting himself back in shape both physically and mentally. No longer did he look over his shoulder, double check bathrooms, or stay late in class just to miss Altair on purpose. He was a stronger man now, and if Altair wanted to beat on him still, Malik would beat back, but if he wanted to talk, then Malik would listen. There was still some part of him that missed the taller man in his life- not because of the molestation, but because they had been the best of friends now and that small part of his mind and heart still hoped that it could be that way again.

"I can't believe I let you talk me into taking Mr. Hastings." Malik groaned, putting his head in his hands. "I mean, this class is ridiculous."

Ezio sighed beside him, shifting in his chair as their English teacher droned on about one thing or another. "Desmond seemed to really like the guy. He was always going in for help-"

"Because he was failing!" Malik hissed.

"Desmond? No, _mi amici_, he is the brightest among us. He flew through all of his classes with barely any work and got A's." Ezio whispered as Mr. Hastings continued to teach the lesson, not that either of them were paying any attention to the man what-so-ever.

Malik pouted, sinking low in his chair. He really didn't want to be here, he'd rather be in Leonardo's class. At least he'd have something to think about then. He could wonder why it was that he had never noticed Ezio's hungry gaze before. The way the two interacted was so simplistic that it was no wonder no one noticed that either of them were in a relationship, let alone together. It almost made him jealous, wanting something so small and sweet instead of the steaming pile of crap that had been thrown at him for years now.

The bell rang, dismissing class and the two boys walked to class together.

Something was amiss though, Malik noticed as he walked his usual route with Ezio. They would pick up Yusuf along the way- Yusuf who had miraculously gotten toned and tanned during his winter in Turkey. Not surprising, since he was always outside working, even now.

Their friend joined them, falling into step with the Syrian and the Italian. "Good morning, my friends!" He chirped, his eyes lingering on Malik just a little too long for comfort, but the smaller boy brushed it off. "Are we ready for class?"

Ezio grumbled as Malik laughed. Yusuf was always ready for their class together and always insisted that he get to sit between the two of them. There had been a few lingering touches here, and few eyeing up and down's there, and Malik couldn't say he hadn't done the same. Yusuf was beautiful, certainly something to look at and Malik would have jumped on that in a heartbeat (anything to get away from the thought of Altair) but there was no spark and to Malik, Yusuf was just a pretty face. So friends, he decided, they would remain. Certainly, Yusuf understood that.

* * *

Altair stalked out of his classroom, hoping to be slow enough that he would fall behind Malik as he always did. Malik never seemed to ever know he was there, and he was just fine with that. It was nice to see the Syrian happy, nice to know how he was doing. Every so often he'd have the urge to run up to Malik, and walk beside him, but he couldn't upset the other like that. He couldn't remind Malik that he was still there. As far as he was concerned, Altair could be dead and the other wouldn't know.

Dream-Malik still made nightly visits, but lately, he was clothed and would just sit on Altair's chest. 'Why can't you tell the truth, Ibn La'Ahad?' He would crone. Altair stopped answering after the third time. There was no more truth left to tell. He had said everything to Malik, had let him know why he had done everything, but it wasn't enough to just tell him the truth. Malik had to forgive him, and Altair knew that had a snowball's chance in hell.

Just like clockwork, Malik came bouncing out of his classroom, happy today, as most days lately. Altair followed stealthily behind him, keeping his distance.

"Malik!"

Shit!

With a quick duck and a dive behind two gossiping girls, he hid himself from Malik as the Syrian turned around. Altair's eyes traveled to the classroom that Malik had just gotten out of to find Yusuf waving him down. It didn't seem that odd, after all, they were close friends and Altair felt himself relax.

When did he tense?

He wasn't relaxed for long though as he saw Yusuf lead Malik into the bathroom. With curiosity brimming at his mind, he weaved his way through the masses and leaned lightly against the door, hoping to hear whatever was going on.

* * *

"Malik!"

Said man turned around, seeing his friend Yusuf wave him down. He waited for the Turk to catch up before continuing his walk. "What's up, Yusuf?"

"I uh-" Yusuf looked unsure, his eyes darting around in a sort of nervousness that had never really happened before. "Can I speak to you in private?"

"Sure," He quipped and then was suddenly being dragged into the nearest bathroom. There were no sounds, so it seemed very empty. "Yusuf, are you okay?"

Yusuf smiled at him, it was sweet, calming, and one of the reasons Malik liked to treasure his friendship with the other man. "I wanted to ask if you would… like to go on a date with me."

Malik's smile began to fade, the dread slowly coming over him. "Oh… Yusuf," He took the others' hand in his. "I can't. I just-"

"But I see your eyes wandering all the time, and we get along so well!" The blow to Yusuf and his pride was clear on his face, but Malik held steady in his rejection.

"Of course we get along, we're friends. But I just, I can't like you the way you want me to. There will be nothing between us and in the end, it'll mess us both up." He confessed, hoping to ease the other man down gently.

"But you-"

"I appreciate a good body, don't get me wrong, but I'm not attracted to bodies. How hypocritical of me," He joked, waving his stub slightly. Ever since his accident, before the abuse had started, he had stopped looking at just the outside of people, instead seeing what was inside.

Yusuf looked confused and toward Malik. "We could try,"

The next thing Malik knew, Yusuf's lips were on his. But this was not passion, lust, or anything of a carnal nature. They were sweet, pleading, almost begging him to give him and Yusuf a shot. It was nice, he thought as he slowly began to kiss Yusuf back, but it wasn't what he desired in a lip lock. With his hands on the Turk's shoulders, he slowly inched them apart. Yusuf looked smug almost, as if he thought he had won, but Malik knew otherwise. "It won't work."

"Why not?"

Malik gave him a shove. "Leave me alone, Yusuf." He spoke, his tone grave and his look somber. He knew that this friendship was over, Yusuf couldn't take no for an answer, and Malik could never come to like him as he wanted.

With a scoff, Yusuf left, and Malik felt lost once more.

* * *

Altair heard some words, and then silence. He wasn't expecting Yusuf to come storming out, looking as if someone had fucked his mother and sent him pictures. But there was no Malik.

Altair stood in the empty hallway for a long time, the other students having left or gone to class, before he heard a small noise from the bathroom. He could have imagined it, just to have an excuse for entering, or it could have been real. Either way, he opened the door slightly and slipped in.

He could hear it clearly now, a light sniffling from a stall.

Malik was torn again, between giving Yusuf what he wanted to maintain whatever relationship they had or doing what his mind and body told him was right- and that was to reject him. He heard someone enter the bathroom, and tried to stifle his tears, hoping that the other person hadn't noticed him. But all hope flew out the window when he saw feet stop at his door.

"Malik?"

He froze, confusion sweeping over him. "Altair?"

"Let me in?" Silence. "Please?"

Malik shifted on the seat of the toilet slightly, flicking the latch to unlock the stall door. It swung in and revealed Altair leaning on the frame, looking at him with concern.

Altair approached him, squatting down and looking into his eyes. The eyes of the lion were back, staring him down as if he was a tasty meal, ready for devouring. And Altair knew what he looked like, what his body was expecting every time he laid eyes on Malik whether it was the real Malik, or dream-Malik, but he squashed it. Standing up, he leaned forward.

Malik was expecting to be assaulted, sexually, verbally, or physically, and flinched. He was steeling himself for whatever Altair might throw out at him, but he was never really prepared to feel those rough lips pressed against his forehead and a large hand caressing the back of his head.

His eyes slid shut as they held like this, both enjoying the moment, the closeness to each other again, and when it was gone, Malik felt like crying out. His eyes snapped open, watching as Altair wet a paper towel and brought it back to him. Altair squatted in front of him again, and wiped under his eyes, clearing away the tearstains.

Malik's eyes wandered Altair's body, much like they did Yusuf's but there was a big difference between them. Whereas Yusuf was nice to look at, Altair was sinful. The tanned skin fell over beautifully corded muscles that flexed and relaxed as he worked. And there were muscles there, which Malik couldn't see, but knew he had felt before, along his chest and back. Altair was an Adonis, that was for sure, and Malik had to breathe steady to control himself. He had to remind himself that this was his tormentor, and the man who had broken him. But then why was he letting Altair take care of him, again?

"There," The words broke the spell and Malik looked to Altair's face, who was pleased with his work, but sympathetic to him all the same. He stood, offering his hand to Malik, "Let's go, this place is gross. Coffee's on me."

* * *

Malik spilled his guts (well, at least the part about Yusuf) to Altair over some steaming coffee. He admitted that he had interest in Yusuf's body, but he supposed it was more from an art perspective than a sexual one. He wanted to see Yusuf's body, and that was it. What he failed to tell him though, was that he yearned to feel Altair's body, not just look. He told the story of the bathroom before Altair had shown up, and jokingly decided that bathrooms were just not his place to be at anytime.

"So he kissed you?" Altair questioned, holding down the envy and anger that threatened to rise at the thought of Yusuf kissing Malik.

Malik nodded gently, "Yeah, and I- well, I sort of kissed back. I don't know really, I just, thought if I tried it, yeah, we could make it work… but it felt wrong. I wasn't thrilled." Silence, neither of them wanting to continue the topic. "So, how are your days, Altair? You know, besides stalking me between classes?"

Altair nearly spit out the coffee he had sipped and looked incredulously at the other man. "You knew?"

"I'm not blind, you know, just cripple."

"Then why didn't you say-"

"Because I figured, as long as you weren't bothering me I didn't mind, and if it's what you needed, so be it. Better than getting the tar beat out of me." He laughed, but Altair could still see the hurt hidden behind those eyes. He felt ashamed. All the pain he had caused Malik, and for what? To avoid being called gay? It didn't seem worth it anymore. "You know, this doesn't make up for anything, right? I'm not just going to forgive after one random act of kindness. For all I know, I could be walking right into a trap."

Altair nodded, there was nothing to say, he had said everything he needed to and had nothing to reply.

They spent the rest of that evening, sipping on coffee gone cold and talking about small things- classes, friends, events. Anything to avoid the topic of what had happened between them, or what would happen. It wasn't until closing that they left, going their separate ways. To Malik, it almost seemed like things could be looking up for once.

* * *

Like it? Love it? Hate it?  
Drop me a comment and let me know.

Again, sorry for all the talking, but it will get interesting soon.  
And see! I found a purpose for Yusuf, poor Yusuf. REJECTED!  
Tis okay though.

Anyways, I will see you all next chapter, which I hope to have up soon.  
- **Wolfox**


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